New Memories
by AkaneDelite
Summary: A year after the bathroom incident, Lawrence remained under the impression that he left Adam for dead. That was, until an accident brought Adam to his hospital.  Eventual Chainshipping.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Am I radiating impossible Australian amazing-ness from your screen enough to blow you away and make you want to marry me and have a Billy-puppet-themed wedding and we can live happily ever after? No? Then I am not Leigh Whannell or James Wan; therefore, I unfortunately do not own anything of Saw other than fanfiction.

o0o

There are three things that I am sure of right now.

Firstly, I have the biggest fucking migraine ever. I turn my head not more than an inch and in an instant, I can feel a drill in my head.

Secondly, the light is damn bright. I just tried to open my eyes not so long ago, and the light shooting through my eyes made my migraine worse.

Lastly, even though my eyes remain close, I believe that I am in a hospital. What gave that away was that this bed is not the cheap, springy mattress that I'm used to, as well as the steady beeping sound of the heart monitor.

_What happened to me?_ I try to think back; what could have happened to me that landed me here? Figuring that I wouldn't get my answer in the dark, I attempt to open my eyes again and get accustomed to the bright fluorescent lights above me. It's taking longer than usual to get used to it, which makes me wonder how long I'd been out. I raise my hand to rub my temple, but it's painful; it is almost like I hadn't used my arm for an extremely long time. This is when I realize, once my fingertips met my temple, that my head is wrapped in bandages. I try to think back again, only to be met with a void memory.

It's frightening to say the least.

You're in a hospital with bandages on your throbbing head with no memory, or even the slightest clue, how you got here. Your entire body feels like it hadn't moved for a while. There's a heart monitor to signal anyone who comes to this room that you are alive, so that could mean that you weren't far from death while you were out.

Once I get used to the light, I take in my surroundings. A white curtain is closed all around me, there's an IV on my left hand, and a colored paper folded horizontally and a bouquet of flowers in a vase on top of a small table next to me. I lower my hand on my temple to my face, where I feel a thin tube running across my cheek, through my nose, and God only knows how far up my nose.

This is just getting scarier and more frightening by the moment. My lungs are gathering less and less air with each inhale. _What. The fuck. Happened to me?_

Think back, think back...I can't.

Okay, calm down. You panic if you are abducted and chained in an ancient abandoned room (how did I picture that scenery so perfectly?), not when you're now clearly alive and well and in the process of healing.

But this is just so overwhelming, I can't help it.

I reach for the folded paper next to the bouquet and open it. It is a message written in big, sloppy letters with many different colored pencils, as though it was written by a six-year-old.

_To Adam_

_Thank you for saving my daddy. I hope you wake up soon._

_From Diana_

Did I risk my life for someone's dad? Is that how I got here?

That thought makes me feel a little proud and fills me with warmth. Now I just wish I can remember doing something so heroic.

I try to think back again...only to hit a wall that causes a worse throbbing sensation through my head and just no recollection.

Alright, careful thinking.

My name is Adam Faulkner...I think I turned twenty-three recently, right?...I live with my mom...or have I moved out already? My mom's name is Amy...and..._God, my head fucking hurts! _If everything wouldn't hurt so much, I would love to scream; scream, yell, curse to the fucking world, do absolutely anything to have someone answer me, tell me what happened, what's wrong with me, and why is it that the small bit of memory that I _can_ gather seem so...so far away.

I hear a door opening, and for some reason, I fall silent-not that I had even made noise to begin with. I just can't bring myself to say anything. Is it because I'm afraid of reality? Or is it that I am subconsciously too busy trying to wake up from this really scary dream? Or is it just that it hurts to even open my mouth?

I can hear footsteps getting closer, and that is when a doctor pulls the curtain to reveal himself. This doctor is tall, blonde, and rather than scrubs, he is wearing a buttoned shirt and tie under a lab coat, a pair of black dress pants, and a walking cane. That is basically all I can see from my view.

Upon seeing my face, his clipboard and cane falls to the floor, his jaw nearly joining them, "A-Adam...?"

I'm not sure how I can respond to it. Was I really out for so long, the _doctor_ is shocked?

"Oh my God..." he wipes his forehead and took two big steps up to me and embraces me, "Adam, you must be furious with me, but I promise I won't leave you like that again."

I...know this doctor? How?

"I was careless as always...I really didn't mean to," he lets go of me and meets my eyes, "I was afraid of losing you without being able to apologize. You saved my life, and I just couldn't think of anyone else but myself that time and..." his voice cracks, "Man, I need to call your mom and she will be so happy..."

His rambling...I just can't make any sense of it. I try to take a good look at him, but he remains too unfamiliar.

"Who...are you?"

The color is immediately drained from his face.

o0o

A/N: Good ol' retrograde amnesia fic. Common fanfic plot element, never seen it used in the Saw category. No wonder it's such a commonly used plot element. It's fun to write. :D


	2. Chapter 1

_Seven months earlier_

Emergencies happen all the time, whether they are to be expected or not. Usually when it is rush hour, we do tend to get ourselves prepared; it is the time where a lot of people leave school or work at roughly the same time, and accidents happen nearly every day during that time. So it was no surprise when a nurse ran into my office with a wheelchair to help transport me to the emergency room quicker and swiftly informed me of a male in his mid-twenties who smashed his head against the windshield of his car when a bigger car behind him carelessly hit into his. In addition to the brain damage, he was losing blood that paramedics attempted to stop as much as they could on the way over. This is normal. It's a daily routine for me.

What made me drop the sutures and lose balance on my prosthetic wasn't just the event. It was the bleeding patient in front of me.

The dying patient in front of me was Adam.

His eyes were closed., more than half of his face was red and brown from dried blood, he laid still on the gurney, but he remained unforgettable and hard to miss. The moment I laid my eyes on him, I could hear his voice, begging and screaming my name so loud that it sent shivers down my spine. The last time I saw him was when I was running away. Jigsaw. My family possibly dying. My lost foot. A young male being left in the dark. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to run from that place, regardless of what I had to do. I just kept on trying to convince myself that he would be fine while there was a taunting voice telling me, _no chance in hell._

I was afraid that my cowardice had cost someone's life, and that's the last thing any surgeon could do. No surgeon, or _any_ doctor, should run from his or her patient, no matter the circumstance. This job doesn't come with a comfort zone. Up until that day, I had learned to turn my emotions emotions into cold, uncaring steel. Of course it would cost my relationship with my family, always putting work first, as well as make families of the dead uncomfortable when I had informed them the unfortunate news, but I would just tell myself that doing this could save more lives. I would never have to show sympathy when operating, and that's how it should be. That's what I _thought_. I've grown accustomed to do my work with emotions now; I had accepted when to not let my emotions get in the way after that experience.

And there I was, standing frozen in front of the young man I thought I left for dead a whole year ago. The heart monitor was showing abnormalities, but this was my second chance. I can save him now...!

That flicker of hope faded, however, when the rapidly beeping monitor abruptly halted to a long beep, and I could only stand frozen.

_I can't let my emotions get in the way again. I can't...I can't...!_ But I just couldn't move, no matter how hard I tried. The same nurse from before pulled me back to the wheelchair as I watched my colleagues get the defibrillator ready. The nurse was shooting questions at me, everyone was shouting actions to one another, but they all sounded like nonsense to me up until "The defibrillator is fully charged!" and "Starting at 200! Clear!"

The beeping was restored soon after, but I still couldn't get the strength to get up and do my part. That was when I was able to hear the nurse, "What is _wrong with you, Doctor Gordon?_ This is _unlike you!_"

"I'm not feeling well," was all I could say as I rubbed my forehead. The nurse nodded understandingly and asked if she would like to take me back to the office or if I could do so on my own with my cane.

I was in no condition to even walk.

o0o

I was sitting on the wheelchair, staring into space and allowing my mind wander. I wasn't sure how long I was here, just sitting outside the emergency room with a cane in hand, but the sound of sobbing snapped me back into reality.

"Where is he?" when I looked up to see the front desk in the distance, there was a short, slim woman crying to person behind the desk, "My son was in an accident, and I know he is here! I saw it all on the news! Tell me where he is, please!"

The person behind the desk, who I wasn't able to see, was attempting to talk softly to the woman to calm her down, despite knowing that it was no use.

"I can't just _wait!_ I want to see Adam _now!_"

So this was Adam's mother. Judging from the few white roots growing on the front hairline and small lines on her face, I could place her to be in her early- to mid-fifties. I wasn't sure what to do at that moment. If I had no idea who this woman was, or who Adam was, this would be really easy to deal with, especially since she was too busy fighting back tears to put up much of a fight.

o0o

The rest of the day went by like a blur. Some time after Adam's mother sat down in the waiting room, I went back to my office with the wheelchair and walking cane resting on my lap. I informed a nurse to let me know of the whereabouts of the patient that they were trying to stabilize and heal as soon as possible.

It was more overwhelming to me than it should be.

Adam was alive. He wasn't left for dead out of my fear. For the past year, he has been out there, living, not rotting in a bathroom that smelled like death. I wasn't sure if I should feel relieved with that fact because of the current situation. He may or may not survive this time.

A knock broke into my thoughts, "Excuse me? Doctor Gordon?"

I gazed up from my desk to the door, "Come in."

A young male rookie peeked his head in, "I'm sorry for interrupting, but I was told to tell you how the emergency patient from the accident earlier has been doing."

"Well? How is he?"

He swallowed, "He's in a coma, sir."

o0o

_Seven months later_

My heart sinks at those words. _Who are you?_

I get up from my place on the bed, grab the clipboard from the ground, and I take a quick look at Adam's birth date. Remembering his mother's visit for his birthday a few weeks ago, an idea spawns, "Adam, can you tell me how old you are?"

His face looks lost and confused, and I feel my heart ache just seeing him in this state.

"I...don't know. Am I twenty-two? Twenty-three?"

Wrong. Very wrong, "Adam, you were twenty-_six_ when you were in an accident that got you here. Seven months ago. You turned twenty-seven recently."

He gets deathly pale, and I really wish I don't have to continue, "What...?" His eyes widen and trembles nervously. Because I can feel his horror, I'm not sure if I just nodded in response like I intend.

_The last three to four years are gone from your memory._

o0o

A/N: This gon' be a long fic. At least it is by my standards. Just letting you know ahead of time right now.


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